


An Exercise in Not Really Getting the Point

by orphan_account



Category: Bakemonogatari
Genre: Angst, Blood Drinking, Codependency, Gen, Mild Suicidal Ideation, Not Canon Compliant, Vampires, cw for pretentious bullshit, good luck on your quest to find the perfect blood drinking story for your purposes, intended to tide you over until you find a better fanfic somewhere else, thanks for stopping by, the author does not care about canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-08 23:58:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18905308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A single scene from a story that doesn’t exist.Koyomi and Shinobu wait for a storm.





	An Exercise in Not Really Getting the Point

**Author's Note:**

> show of hands, who else wrote their first fanfic for a show they’ve seen 4 episodes of and don’t intend to finish

It was not her fault the air looked green.

 

It had been her fault once, back when she first made him into this, when she called the storm from the heavens herself. He had saved her, then.

They stopped their climb under the overhang of the stadium, where the rain couldn’t reach. The air smelled like electricity.

 

“Are you going to save anyone?” Shinobu asked quietly.

 

Koyomi shook his head. “No one needs saving.”

 

No one but me, he didn’t say, because she knew already, and it was her decision to make.

 

“You’re stupid, you know that?”

 

He smiled. “So I’m told. Why are we here?”

 

“You’re the one who walked here. I was just following you.”

 

“Oh.”

 

He had thought she was leading. Apparently she thought the opposite. He stared at nothing as the plink of rain on metal grew louder. Who had decided to come here?

 

The sky crackled.

 

Koyomi didn’t care much either way, what Shinobu did in the end. He could just as easily have shut himself inside, locked the storm out like a real person would have.

 

Locked her out with it.

 

He hunched slightly. No, he couldn’t have. Being responsible for someone’s life even once is enough to scar the soul. Saving and killing cut the same. And he’d done both, to her.

 

“I’m hungry.”

 

And he would continue to do so, apparently. He wasn’t entirely sure if his sigh was relief or disappointment.

 

“You can kill me whenever you choose,” he reminded her.

 

She kicked at his shins and he yelped, jumping back.

“You sound like a broken record, you stupid martyr. It’s the thing I hate most about y-“

She stopped, fiery-eyed, when she saw the smirk on his face. “Shut up.”

 

The smile didn’t waver as he shrugged the shirt off his shoulders and went back to sit against the wall behind them. The sticky-cold of the paint covering the cinderblocks sent a sick shiver down his spine. Shinobu walked over after him, planted a foot on either side of his legs and crossed her arms. The fire in her eyes had burned out, mostly.

 

“Do you ever intend to regret the fate you’ve consigned us to?” The question was as dead as her expression.

 

Koyomi didn’t meet her eyes as he tilted his head to the side. “Maybe.”

 

The scars on his neck had stopped feeling the pinprick pain of her teeth long ago, but the familiar ache of the bite still spread through him the same. She’d explained once that it was actually poison. Comparing her to a mosquito in response had earned him particularly rough treatment that time, not that he gave a shit. He didn’t have the heart to point out that whether she kissed his scars or ripped out his throat she was still alive, still perpetually losing to him in the battle that began years ago in this same stadium.

 

She was being kind to him this time around, though, and he wasn’t entirely ungrateful for it. He still wished she’d stop straddling him like this, especially with the way she looked older now. It made him look shady enough as it was, him half-undressed with her buried in his neck. But no one else was around, not with the storm coming, and Koyomi didn’t feel like fighting the urge to reach around her waist and pull her closer, to try to soothe the phantom cries ringing in his ears. It was his imagination, obviously, nothing real or meaningful, but then again neither was he.

 

She started at being moved but he held her through it, blinking away the tears that burned in his eyes at the rip of her teeth. She made an exasperated noise of protest and pulled away. She had to arch against his grip to get her face far back enough to focus and stare at him, golden eyes and golden hair and disdain. His blood glistened on her lips in the greenish light and even more on her teeth when she snarled at him.

 

“Stop it.”

 

“Stop what?” his lungs struggled to produce words, simultaneously venom-soaked and blood-drained, but he was genuinely curious. It wasn’t like he hadn’t grabbed her before.

 

“You _want_ me to kill you.”

 

Koyomi hadn’t noticed. He closed his eyes and pointedly jerked his head to the side. “Don’t see how that matters. I can’t force you to. Come on, we don’t have all day.”

 

Well, now, that was just a lie, wasn’t it?

 

He wasn’t exactly thrilled that she had let go before she was done, he didn’t need another round of venom shot into him, but she had a bit of a point about his being a ‘stupid martyr’. Feeding Shinobu never felt _good_ the way it was sometimes portrayed in lusty vampire romance stories or tv dramas, but something about letting someone literally drain the life from his veins for their own benefit felt _right_ in a way little else did. It was correct, deserved. It was the least he could do, his baseline, her god-given right and his duty.

 

She scoffed, and he could practically feel her trying to hate him. There was a fleeting moment of success, probably, he thought, hating him couldn’t be all that difficult. He wasn’t properly human or monster, just some halfway thing slumped in a heap against the plasticky painted concrete, exhausted in every sense.

 

_It’s just. You know. Being responsible for someone else’s life, even once..._

The hatred sparked once in her eyes, died.

 

_How are you supposed to hate someone when you’ve died for each other?_

The venom burned.

 

_Our scars match, don’t they._


End file.
